Colum McCann

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There's a part of me that thinks perhaps we go on existing in a place even after we've left it

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Good days, they come around the oddest corners

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The simple things come back to us. They rest for a moment by our ribcages then suddenly reach in and twist our hearts a notch backward

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Rather he consoled himself with the fact that, in the real world, when he looked closely into the darkness he might find the presence of a light, damaged and bruised, but a little light all the same

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No shame in saying that I felt a loneliness drifting through me. Funny how it was, everyone perched in their own little world with the deep need to talk, each person with their own tale, beginning in some strange middle point, then trying so hard to tell it all, to have it all make sense, logical and final